


Those Left Behind

by Heavenly_Pearl



Series: Mila and Her Loves [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Babies, Because Yurio, Death, Drama, Egg Donor, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memorials, Post-Canon, Rating's just for language, Reunions, Romance, Sorry Makkachin's dead too, Tragedy, Wakes & Funerals, YOIRarePairWeek2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Pearl/pseuds/Heavenly_Pearl
Summary: A year ago, Mila and Mari had a short summer fling when Mila came to Hasetsu to skate in Viktor and Yuuri’s annual ice show.She never expected their reunion a year later to be the result of a heart-breaking loss.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva & Yuri Plisetsky, Mila Babicheva/Katsuki Mari, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Mila and Her Loves [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093343
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	Those Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE BEFORE READING: This fic takes place during the summer of 2020. Mila is around 22 and Mari is roughly 33-ish. Hard to say when neither have canonical birthdays. And, yes, I’m sorry. I know I’m evil for killing Yuuri off.

Yuuri Katsuki had died far too young.

Mila still couldn’t quite believe it. He had only been twenty-seven, seemingly the picture of perfect health. For him to have a heart attack on the ice while choreographing his free program for next season with Viktor – it didn’t seem real.

Yet instead of rehearsing for Yuuri and Victor’s annual summer ice show at Ice Castle as they normally would be doing at this time of year, skaters from all around the world had gathered in a small seaside Japanese town to pay their respects to the reigning Olympic and World men’s champion, his legacy cut short in the prime of his career.

Sitting beside her at the wake, Yuri loudly sniffled, almost drowning out the droning voice of the Buddhist priest who was chanting a sutra at the front of the room. Mila reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. She silently offered it to Yuri, but he shook his head, seeking comfort instead from his boyfriend Otabek, who sat on the other side of him. He wrapped an arm around Yuri’s trembling shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he pulled Yuri closer.

Other than Viktor, Yuri had been the only other person on the ice when it happened a couple of days ago, and he had been near inconsolable for hours afterward, crying almost through the night. Despite all his insults and name-calling over the years, Yuri had idolized Yuuri more than anyone; it was clear that his death had hit him especially hard.

Using the handkerchief herself, Mila dabbed at a couple of tears that had managed to roll down her cheeks. She hadn’t been as close to Yuuri as perhaps some of the others in attendance, but she had still considered him a good friend, the two of them sometimes teaming up to play silly pranks on Yuri when he and Viktor had lived and trained in St. Petersburg.

She turned her attention back to the front of the room. The section closest to the casket had been reserved for Yuuri’s immediate family. While the priest continued chanting, they offered pinches of powdered incense to the urn in front of the altar, three times each, after which the other mourners were invited to do the same.

It took about an hour for the priest to finish chanting his sutra and prayers, thus concluding the simple, yet touching, ceremony. The mourners were starting to rise from their seats when Viktor moved to stand in front of the altar after exchanging some words with Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko.

“E-Excuse me,” he said in English, repeating again in Russian and lightly accented Japanese for those who did not understand. “If I could have a few more minutes of your time, there’s something I would like to say.”

Mila wasn’t sure how it was possible, but Viktor looked as if he had aged a decade in the course of only a couple of nights. Dark circles outlined his eyes from a lack of sleep, and his trademark silver-blond hair was dull and disheveled. Though he wore a conservative black suit like all the other men in attendance, his tie was crooked, and there appeared to be some sort of stain on the front of his white dress shirt. For a man who usually took such pride in his appearance, almost always well-dressed and put together unless he was training, it was alarming to see him like that.

“I know this is somewhat irregular for a _tsuya_ ,” he continued once everybody had sat back down, “but I would like to say a few words about my Yuuri – my beautiful, amazing Yuuri.” Viktor glanced back at the altar where Yuuri’s body lay in his coffin, his shoulders trembling as he inhaled a shaky breath. Clenching his hands into tight fists at his side, he turned back to face the mourners. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he said softly, seeming to be speaking mostly to himself despite the audience before him. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, somehow looking everywhere and nowhere at once. “Four years – that’s all I got with him. Four years of life and love, of _happiness_. Yuuri was… Yuuri was my soulmate. I never even believed in soulmates before, not really, yet…”

Sniffling, Viktor fumbled for his handkerchief in his breastpocket, but his hand was shaking so violently that the fabric fluttered uselessly to the floor. “We had so many plans, so many dreams,” he said, his voice wavering. “Yuuri… He was going to win a second Olympic gold in Beijing, then he was going to retire from competition. We were going to open our own skating school, here in Hasetsu, and...and… Oh, God!”

Tears now visibly rolling down his pale cheeks, Viktor brought a hand to his mouth, a broken sob escaping as he doubled over. Yuuri’s mother, Hiroko, along with a young woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, jumped up from their seats to comfort him.

Mila didn’t recognize her at first, but once she got a good look at the woman’s face, she realized it was Yuuri’s older sister, Mari. Like Viktor, Mari looked like a shadow of her normal self, dressed in a black kimono almost identical to Hiroko’s. Her two-toned hair was neatly slicked back rather than in its usual casual, untamed style, and she had taken out the multitude of earrings that usually adorned her ears.

She and Mari...had a history. It had been only a fling, a brief affair last summer when Mila had come to skate in Yuuri’s and Viktor’s skating show, but they had parted on good terms, aware from the start that it was never meant to be a serious relationship. Mila had just recently broken up with her latest partner at the time, after all, and Mari had never been one for long-term commitments. Still, Mila’s heart broke for her – for all of Yuuri’s family – as much as it did for Viktor.

The two of them managed to guide the sobbing Viktor back to his seat. Mila half-expected Yuri to make some snide remark, but he remained silent, struggling to hold back his own tears. She reached for Yuri’s hand and threaded their fingers together, Yuri leaning against her shoulder.

“This fucking sucks,” he said in a voice low enough for only her to hear.

Mila squeezed his hand. She couldn’t agree more.

* * *

After the wake, a dinner was held in another room. Traditionally, from what Mila understood, it was only for close family members, but as Viktor didn’t have any family other than Yuuri’s relatives to support him, his Russian skating family had all been invited to participate: Mila, Yuri, Otabek (who had been unofficially adopted into the family), Georgi, Yakov, and Lilia. Chris and Phichit – Viktor’s and Yuuri’s best friends, respectively – had also been granted honorary family status, along with Minako Okukawa and the Nishigoris.

To nobody’s surprise, the main course was katsudon, Yuuri’s favorite meal.Everyone sat at a long, low-set table in the center of the room, eating, drinking, and sharing fond memories of Yuuri. Viktor, sitting at the end of the table, was quiet and withdrawn after what had happened at the wake, barely touching the food in front of him, but every once in a while, Mila thought she saw a tiny hint of a smile when somebody shared a funny anecdote.

Midway through the meal, Phichit stood up and loudly cleared his throat, raising his hand as a signal for everyone to stop talking. Mila shared a confused look with Georgi, who was sitting directly across from her at the table, then set down her chopsticks, turning her attention to Phichit like everybody else.

“Um… As you all know, Yuuri meant a lot to me. I mean, he meant a lot to all of us, but...damn…sorry...” Phichit took a moment to compose himself, turning his face away and pressing his fist against his mouth. “Yuuri was my best friend,” he started again. “I know it isn’t much, but I wanted – no, _needed_ – to do something for him as a tribute, you know? So, with the help of my little friends –” he nodded to the ten-year-old Nishigori triplets, who looked even more identical than usual in matching black velvet dresses “– I made a video in Yuuri’s honor, celebrating his life. I would like to show it to you all now, if that’s okay?”

He looked to Yuuri’s parents and Viktor for permission. Mila wasn’t even certain if Viktor had heard anything Phichit had said, staring down at his bowl of katsudon and mindlessly stirring it with his chopsticks, but Hiroko placed her hand on Viktor’s arm, rubbing it in comfort as she answered for him. “That sounds lovely, Phichit-kun,” she said in halting English. “We would very much like to watch.”

Phichit exhaled. “Thank you. Axel, if you please?”

The triplet who wore her hair in braided pigtails pulled a laptop out from underneath the table and walked over to the TV mounted in the corner of the room. With a technical expertise well beyond her years, Axel connected the laptop to the TV and began playing Phichit’s tribute video.

The delicate notes of “Yuuri On Ice”, the music Yuuri had used for his iconic free program the season Viktor first became his coach, set the tone, playing over a montage of photographs, videos, and Tweets of condolences from fellow skaters, coaches, and Yuuri’s fans. They were not in any kind of chronological order, Phichit’s placement of the memories seemingly chosen more by gut feeling than anything else.

A photo of Yuuri winning a medal at a Junior Grand Prix event at age fourteen was followed by a selfie of him and Phichit attending a Detroit Tigers baseball game, then a video of a young Yuuri giggling as his face was licked by an adorable miniature poodle that looked a lot like Makkachin, who had sadly passed away the year before of old age. _Vic-chan_ , Mila presumed, remembering that Yuuri once had a beloved dog he had named after Viktor. The next few pictures were official school photos, then he and Viktor were dancing their first dance as husbands at their beach-front wedding, staring at each other with so much love and joy in their eyes that it made Mila’s own eyes water.

More memories followed. Winning the gold medal at the 2018 Olympics… Graduating high school with his proud parents by his side… A group photo of Yuuri, Viktor, and the rest of the Russian skaters (plus Otabek) at the good-bye party they had thrown when Viktor had decided to retire from competition (for good) and move back to Hasetsu with Yuuri… A clip from their _Stammi Vicino_ exhibition program… Yuuri giving one of the triplets (Loop?) a piggy-back ride while her sisters played with Viktor and Makkachin in the background… Practicing ballet at Minako’s studio… Goofing around the ice with Yuuko and Takeshi as novices at Ice Castle... Six-year-old Mari being introduced to tiny baby Yuuri at the hospital…

Someone stood up and rushed out of the room.

Mila glanced around the table. No one else seemed to have noticed, everybody focused on watching the video. Even Viktor had finally looked up, blinking back tears as Yuuri performed his “Yuuri On Ice” step sequence to perfection on the TV. The only person missing was Mari.

 _Is s_ _he_ _okay?_ Mila wondered, frowning.

The video ended shortly afterward, the final photo featuring Yuuri and Phichit on the podium at last season’s Four Continents, smiling brightly as they held up their gold and silver medals, with the words “Always In Our Hearts” underneath.

As everyone stood to applaud Phichit’s touching memorial, Mila took the opportunity to slip away to check on Mari, only letting Yuri know in case somebody asked where she had gone. Yuri nodded his understanding; he was one of the few she had confided in about her brief relationship with Yuuri’s sister. To be honest, she wasn’t even sure if Yuuri had known. She hadn’t told him, and Mari might have preferred to keep it to herself. They hadn’t deliberately hid it, but neither of them had felt the need to go public either, knowing that it was just a short summer fling.

Mari wasn’t in the hallway outside the dining room. Mila checked the ladies’ room a few doors down, but that was empty, too. Uncertain where else she might have gone, Mila began randomly wandering the halls of the funeral home, hoping she would happen to run into Mari.

She finally spotted her through the windows inset into the doors at the front entrance. Mari was leaning against one of the posts holding up the portico, her eyes closed and smoking a cigarette. _Oh, so she just needed a smoke break,_ Mila thought, although it had been rather rude to run out in the middle of Phichit’s tribute video. Certainly something like that could have waited a couple of minutes until the end.

No, something else must have set her off. As a daughter brought up working in the hospitality business, Mari was rarely rude without good reason. After a moment of deliberation, Mila pushed open one of the doors and stepped outside.

“Hey.”

Mari glanced over in surprise, her eyes briefly widening when she saw Mila. “Oh, hey,” she said, taking a long drag on her cigarette before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

The smoke burned Mila’s lungs. Mari’s smoking habit was one of the things that had always bothered Mila, memories of Mari always lighting up after their secret trysts emerging from the back of her mind. She covered her mouth with her fist, muffling her cough, and used her other hand to wave the rest of the smoke away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s fine. Stay if you’d like.”

Mila moved closer at the invitation, but she was beginning to regret her decision. She had no idea what to do or say. To be honest, despite their fling last summer, she didn’t actually know Mari that well. They hadn’t done much talking, even though they were both fluent enough in English.

“It was a beautiful wake,” Mila said finally for the sake of saying _something_.

“Yeah, it was.”

Another awkward silence fell between them, Mila realizing it had been a mistake to come outside. Mari clearly wasn’t interested in her company. Sighing, she started to pivot around to go back inside when Mari suddenly spoke again.

“Believe it or not, this is actually the first cigarette I’ve smoked in months.” She stared down at the cigarette in her hand, flicking the ashes off the tip. “They wanted a baby, you know.”

Mila turned back around. “Vitya and Yuuri?”

“Yeah. Did you know they almost adopted a baby boy earlier this year?”

She shook her head. “No, they never mentioned it.” Which was strange. Viktor loved his surprises, but it was hard to believe he wouldn’t even let his closest friends know that he and Yuuri were planning to adopt a baby.

“I think they were afraid to jinx it, especially Yuuri,” Mari said. “You know how he is...was.” She paused at the need to switch to past tense, inhaling a shaky breath before continuing with the story. “Viktor wanted to set up a nursery and everything as soon as they got the call, but Yuuri wouldn’t let him. Said it was tempting fate, or something like that.” She took another puff on her cigarette and shrugged her shoulders. “In the end, the birth mother ended up changing her mind about keeping the baby, so...”

“You agreed to be their surrogate?” That would explain why Mari had quit smoking, something that Mila never thought she would ever do.

“Egg donor,” she corrected. “Carrying my brother’s husband’s baby…” She shook her head. “That would have been too weird. But I offered them my eggs. It’s not like I was ever planning to do anything with them, anyway.”

“That was very kind of you,” Mila said, admiring Mari’s generosity. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to do the same, if, say, Yuri and Otabek ever wanted to have a baby and asked her to be their egg donor or surrogate, as much as she loved them.

Shrugging again, Mari made a noncommittal noise and stubbed the remainder of her cigarette against the post. Afterwards, she put the butt of the cigarette in her small black shoulder bag to be thrown away later.

“Did you, um…” Mila wrapped her arms around herself, unsure if it would be considered inappropriate to ask. It really wasn’t any of her business, but it would be a lie to say she wasn’t curious.

“Make the donation?” Mari said, completing her unasked question. “Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. Three embryos, frozen and waiting to be implanted into a surrogate.” She let out a sigh, lightly hitting the back of her head against the post behind her. “I don’t know what Viktor plans to do with them. You saw him in there. He’s obviously in no condition to be a father right now. H-He can barely take care of himself at the moment.”

Up until then, she had been doing well to contain her grief, never one prone to emotional outbursts, but the dam finally broke, Mari blinking back tears as she covered her mouth with her hand. “God, this is so unfair,” she said, her voice strained and muffled. “Why Yuuri? He was only twenty-seven. He would have been such a good fa–”

Mila caught Mari in her arms as her knees buckled underneath her, a heart-rending sob escaping her throat. As gently as she could, Mila guided them both down to the ground, wrapping her arms more securely around Mari as she cried into the shoulder of her black wrap dress. Mari almost seemed to have forgotten that Mila was there, switching from English to Japanese, but the language of grief was universal. Mila didn’t need a translation to understand, Yuuri’s and Viktor’s names coming up several times, along with the Japanese words for “mother” and “father” and a few other phrases she half-remembered from the basic Japanese lessons Mari had given her as pillow talk.

“I’m so sorry, Mari,” she murmured during a lull in Mari’s lamentations. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Mari sniffled, pulling away. Though her sobs had subsided, the tears hadn’t fully stopped, continuing to roll down her cheeks. With clumsy, shaking fingers, she attempted to open her tiny black purse, but her hands wouldn’t cooperate. Mila wordlessly took over the task for her, pulling out the handkerchief she assumed Mari had been searching for and using it to blot Mari’s tear-streaked face.

“Sorry.” Mari stared downwards at her lap, not meeting Mila’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to –”

Mila didn’t know why she did it. If she was being charitable, she would say she only wanted to cheer Mari up, to take away at least a little of her pain. At worst, she was taking advantage of someone at their lowest point, selfishly exploiting their vulnerability. The true reason was probably somewhere in between the two extremes, but whatever it was, Mila kissed her.

Not on the lips. Cupping the side of Mari’s face, Mila lightly pecked her on the other cheek, Mari’s entire body freezing at the unexpectedly intimate contact. Mila, realizing what she had done, silently cursed her poor timing and started to apologize, but the words were swallowed when Mari’s mouth covered hers, kissing her back.

There was nothing passionate about the kiss, nothing like the kisses they had shared before. The faint taste of salt coated Mari’s chapped lips, a remnant of her tears. Mila pulled her closer, Mari embracing her tightly as they took comfort from each other.

They continued kissing until they heard the doorswinging open. Mari immediately pulled away, her dark eyes widening as she looked over Mila’s shoulder.

Mari’s father Toshiya stood at the entrance of the funeral home, one foot still inside as he held the door open, and stared at the two of them sitting on the concrete. Aware of how it must look to him – his daughter kissing someone in public, her black kimono in disarray, while his son lay dead in a coffin inside – Mila quickly rose back to her feet and offered her hand to help Mari stand.

“Mr. Katsuki, sir, I can explain,” Mila said, although she had no idea how – especially since of the Katsuki family, Toshiya’s English was notoriously the worst, little better than her toddler’s grasp of Japanese. She felt she had to at least try to defend Mari’s honor, though. “Mari and I – we…”

“Mari, there you are.” His posture relaxed, the surprise on Toshiya’s face softening into gentle concern as he further stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. “We worried about you. Thank you for finding her, Bavicheb– Baba–” After a couple of admirable attempts, he gave up trying to pronounce “Babicheva” with its difficult “b” and “v” sounds and settled for “Mila-san.”

That wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting. “Oh, um...you’re welcome?”

Beside her, Mari gave Mila’s hand a soft squeeze before releasing her grasp. She walked over to her father, the two of them exchanging a few words in Japanese that Mila couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem like an argument or anything of that sort, though, much to Mila’s relief. When they finished, Toshiya pulled Mari into a hug, tenderly landing a kiss on her temple.

“We should go back to dinner,” Mari said, switching back to English. She broke free of her father’s embrace, then looked back at Mila. “Mila, are you coming?”

She held out her hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Mila took it, Mari grasping it tightly as the three headed back inside.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: “Yuri!! On Ice” doesn’t belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR’S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed the story! This fic was written for the Yuri!!! On Ice Rare Pair Week, Day 5: Endings/Death. I’m doing something fun for this year’s Rare Pair event – six Mila one-shot romances, all shipping her with a different character. I’ve decided to take a break for Day 6, but I’ll be wrapping this event up with the final fic on Sunday, which will feature (one-sided) Mila/Victor!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.
> 
> I used this site to research Japanese funeral practices: https://japanjunky.com/what-can-you-expect-at-a-japanese-funeral I’m sorry if I got anything wrong.


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